Five stages of grieving

I went through 5 stages of grieving at the Bluff:  Denial – no I didn’t sign up for race, I was drafted.  Anger– what kind of maniac designed this course?  Bargaining– hang in there, I can quit at the next aid station.  Depression– I’ve got how many more miles to go??  Acceptance– I suck!

Anyway, this will be a thank you letter (with some apologies) and not a blow-by-blow account.

My thanks go to Jerry for organizing the race and making me feel special at the finish line.  I would have helped you dismantle the finish line station if I wasn’t already dismantled myself.

Thanks to the videographers and photographers (Iggy!) who will have a permanent record of me sucking air.

Thanks to all the volunteers at all the aid stations who patrolled the traffic, filled my bottles, and filled baggies with food to carry, for cheering me on, and for words of encouragement.  Oh my god, my apologies to Aid Station 5- the traffic controllers were holding up the traffic for me; I had a cup of drink in my hand; I was dazed, confused, unthinking- I TOSSED the cup on the ground, so I could dash across Route 80.   I’m so, so, so sorry!

My thanks to the small group of runners who were with me during the race- Doug Story (the woohoo king!), Tom Malcolm (I think we have run ~100 miles together across 5 different races, spanning 3 years and have exchanged the same one word with each other at each race –‘hey’!), Heather Wiatrowski, Hillary Johnson, Dan Bennett, and Susan Dewitt -thanks for pulling me through at various stages of the race – even if you didn’t realize it, and even if  it wasn’t your intent. 

My apologies to anyone I left out.

Booman